Threat
by MavisK
Summary: President of the new Panem, Katniss' struggles have fallen lower on the bar, with two beautiful children and a mad husband to look after. The nightmares and the war plague the couple but nothing is as hard as what they did all those years ago. But a new threat arrives and no one knows what it is except Katniss. And she fears it more than anything in the world.
1. Chapter 1

"Mummy, what's a bunker?" Willow patters over to me, her little feet slipping on the freshly cleaned floors. I run a hand through my hair that I didn't have time to braid today since Oliver started crying at five in the morning. He drinks his bottle now, his head nestled into the crook of my arm, his little hand wrapped around my pointer finger.

"It's a safe place," I tell her as she crawls onto the couch and sits down beside me, holding her book open. It's _Panem History _and there's a picture of one of the old stone bunkers from the wear.

"Safety from what?" she asks. Her innocent blue eyes look up at me expectantly. She doesn't understand.

"From bad people," I explain, "Like robbers and villains." She looks concerned.

"Someone should save them," she says. Then she smiles. "Like a super hero!" I can't help but laugh softly at her perfect view of the world, being saved by people in capes.

"Maybe you should be president instead," I say, kissing her soft head. She shakes her head, looking mortified.

"I want to be a singer."

"You have to practice lots."

"I know." She smiles again then turns back to her book. Oliver grunts from underneath his bottle, the milk steadily running out. I pull it away and bring him upright to burp. These mornings are my favorite time. The sun is barely up but me and two little children are awake and already answering the day's call. The white curtains in the room are open to let in the sunshine and I can already feel the heat creeping up my back and can see it glinting off every piece of furniture. I just cleaned yesterday and everything looks pristine. I remember when Oliver was born and Peeta insisted we buy another couch since we were adding to the family. I let him go down to the city and get one, but we only really use it when Haymitch comes by for the occasional drink.

Oliver starts to cry, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into real life. I change his diaper while Willow begs for breakfast.

"You don't need me," I tell her, "Just go wake Daddy and he can get out the bread from yesterday for you."

"But I do need you," she says, sticking out her lower lip. I'm not sure why she always says that._ "I need you." _But it's calming now, knowing I have a purpose to take care of her and her brother.

"Well let's go then," The three of us make our way to the kitchen where I can already smell something baking.

"Peeta," I say in surprise, seeing him already dressed and shaven, a fresh white apron pulled over his navy t-shirt and jeans.

"Got up early," he smiles, kissing my cheek and taking Oliver off my hands. I slice the bread he's just prepared while Willow tells him about her new discovery on bunkers. He just gives me a silent look and I know we're both having flashbacks. I focus on the bread again as the knife cuts deep into every warm piece. Sometimes I can't even do normal things these days but I keep forcing myself to. Knives set me off and with the crimson red cranberries in this bread, I can only cut three pieces before I back away to the table. I eat my breakfast in silence but Willow fills the empty words with everything her little brain can fathom. Sometimes I think she knows more about my past than I give her credit for, but then other times I know if she did, she would ask questions. She loves asking questions.

"Ten minutes till we leave Willow," says Peeta, taking my empty plate and handing Oliver back to me. He gurgles quietly in my arms. I can already see little tuffs of hair showing up on his cream colored head but they're blonde, unlike his brown eyes that mine. Willow has Peeta's eyes but both our hair colors mixed in a dirty brown and blonde color. She loves braids, like me, but it's too short now, falling just below her chin in a bob that is often messy and tangled. I comb through it today with my fingers then toss the remaining bread crumbs off her jumper and send her over to Peeta who is waiting by the kitchen door.

"Be back in ten," he says, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

"I'll be here," I nod to Oliver. He coos. I listen to the two others leave then finish cleaning dishes while Oliver entertains himself in his bouncer. It's going to be a long day but I'm prepared for it, like every day. I always thought the household life would be too boring, or difficult for me, and as hard as it is some days, I could never choose anything different. I love Peeta and our children and there isn't anything ho-hum about it. I can't hunt anymore, mostly because of hectic days, but I don't really know what would happen if I did pick up a bow.

War takes a toll on people; but I've never seen it in anyone worse than Peeta. He can be fine one moment, just changing a diaper or going over paperwork and then the next moment he's hunched over on the ground, sobbing because a flashback has hit him. He says he closes his eyes or blinks for one second and he can't open them again while he feels every piece of torture Snow put on him. Nighttime is even worse. I can't name how many times he's woken the baby or Willow with his screams. He says they're getting better but I can tell when he's lying. It doesn't get better and I should know. Maybe Haymitch is healthier than when he was before he mentored us but a part of me truly knows that if we visited him, there would be bottles everywhere and he could probably barely stand. I hired a maid for him a few weeks ago but I can't see him myself. Too difficult to face that his situation is my fault.

Right now Peeta and I are living in a medium sized house outside the city by just two miles. He and I work at the Odair House (named after Finnick) and I'm currently the president of Panem. There was quite a bit of discussion about if I was mentally stable to take the job but finally Peeta made the call and said I was better than anyone and I knew more about Panem's deepest secrets and worst people than anyone ever could. That won the vote.

Now I'm busy with Oliver and Peeta has taken over for a while, just to keep things in order until I can hire a nanny I trust.

"You could get Gale." Peeta suggested one evening after the kids had gone to bed and we were sharing a bottle of wine.

"Peeta," I said quietly, "I haven't talked to him in six years."

"That isn't that long."

"I don't want him looking after my children," I said. The conversation ended when I went to bed. Peeta hasn't brought it up since but he also won't really put in his opinion when it comes time for me to think about a nanny again. "A mother knows best," he says. The problem is I don't.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

WARNING: This chapter is very dark and has possible trigger warnings.

0o0

The door opens and I close my book, looking up to see Peeta carrying Willow inside. Snow flecks on their hats and hair melt instantly as I stand to give them both hugs.

"Mummy, I'm going to be in a talent show!" giggles Willow, holding up a small flier with spotlights on it.

"Oh how lovely," I say softly. "Now go wash up for dinner and please keep your voice down. Oliver is sleeping." She jumps from Peeta's arms, running up the stairs with her snow boots still laced on.

"How was your day?" Peeta asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my cheek.

"Long. Yours?"

"The same," he says, "She's really excited for the talent show."

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow evening. She's going to sing."

"Of course she is," I smile. Later I hear her already practicing as she comes into the kitchen, taking her seat at the dining table.

"What are you singing sweetheart?" I ask, setting the food down on the table.

"Once Upon a December," she says.

"It sounds beautiful," I say. She smiles, her eyes full of light.

0o0

I crawl into bed beside Peeta, pulling the covers over my warm body. I've been sitting by the fire since after dinner, just staring into it and thinking a lot about the war. If I can even call it a war. There were no armies and no battles, but so much death. Peeta says the war started when the Hunger Games started. I think there's always been a flicker of war in everyone's eyes, after the Games had been going on for a long time. When those flickers became flames and everyone was angry, that's when the war began.

I curl into Peeta's chest and breathe in his familiar smell. Fresh bread with a touch of peppermint from his toothpaste.

"You alright?" he asks but I can feel his own hands shaking. He told me once that he's terrified to go to bed.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I say softly, "But you aren't." He just shakes his head and pulls me closer as we both fall into a deep restless sleep.

0o0

The next evening I pull a flowery dress over Willow's head and help her fix her curly brown hair into a bun.

"You're going to sound amazing," I tell her, smiling. She's only 6 years old, but everyone we've met told us she had a lovely voice. And I really do believe it myself.

"I'm nervous," she tells me as I tuck another pin into her hair. "What if no one likes the song?"

"Everyone will love it," I promise her. A few minutes later I finish dressing Oliver in a purple onesie and we head out in Peeta's car, a large van with many seats. Night is already falling as we pass other student's cars, Willow pointing out a few friends' mothers and fathers that drive the vehicles. Oliver gurgles in the backseat, shooting his hands into the air without really knowing he's doing it as he stares at all the streetlights out the windows.

The school is lit up with Christmas lights hanging from every ledge, along with a few Talent Show signs covered in spotlights, just like Willow's flier. We hurry inside and Willow runs to her teacher, a tall woman with short brown and red hair who I recognize easily.

"Katniss, Peeta," she smiles.

"Johanna." I never thought the fiery swearing girl from District 7 would become a children's teacher but here she is in a calm black sweater and khaki pants, looking happy despite her few scars across her face. But I can still tell it's her when she whispers in my ear, "Blonde kid, Act 1, plug your ears. He sounds like a broken fire alarm." I hide a grin behind my hand, and Peeta's shoulders shake in laughter as he hears the remark. Oliver starts to cry in my arms so I nod to Peeta and we part with Johanna and Willow, heading to our seats in the auditorium. I blow Willow a kiss and give her a thumbs up before disappearing into the aisles of seats.

"I'm more nervous than she is," whispers Peeta, taking Oliver off my hands.

"She's going to be fine," I smile, "You saw how confident she was." He nods, eyes trained on the stage. The children begin their performances, each one making proud parents shed tears or laugh heartily. The whole atmosphere feels joyous, something I haven't felt since the war. At least until Johanna comes to sit with us a little while into the show and whispers, "we have security guards everywhere. And a sniper based around Willow."

"Johanna there isn't anything dangerous," I hiss.

"Precautions," she answers, "She is the President's daughter." I give a curt nod and turn back to the show, where a blonde girl is finishing her choppy violin sequence.

"Next up," says the Principal, "Is Miss Willow Mellark with her cover of Once Upon a December." I watch the short brunette skips her way to the microphone, grinning broadly at everyone in the crowd. A hush falls over everyone as her smile softens and she begins the haunting song.

"Dancing bears…painted wings…things I almost remember…" she pauses, "And a song, someone sings, once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm…" her eyes flicker to me, "Horses prance through a silver storm…figures dancing gracefully, across my memory…" She takes a deep breath as the music swells again…then stops. It turns off with the click of a switch, halting the violin and piano, along with the tears slipping down my eyes. I turn to Johanna, and she shrugs.

"Probably just a malfunction." Suddenly, every light shuts off, pulling screams from everyone's throats.

"_What's happening?" _someone calls through the darkness. Willow. I blindly run down the aisle way pushing people I cannot see aside.

"Willow!" I scream. I can feel the stage and I scramble onto it, working with all my might to get to her.

That's when the gun goes off and I hear my daughter scream. I can see her small shadow crumple, her white dress like a ghost as one single light shine through the window, illuminating her body.

And it isn't moving.


	3. Chapter 3

The lights flash on. I can't see her. My chest is pounding in my throat. All I can whisper is, "not her not her not her…" I'm running towards her but it feels like I'm floating, my hands reaching out to grasp any little life that's left in her. Someone grabs my arms and I know it's Peeta by the shape of his hands.

"_No!"_ I scream as he holds me back. Someone is next to her, feeling her pulse. The beating in my ears drowns out everything except two simple words, "She's alright." I hear a murmur about the hospital and sirens are already wailing, hitting me like a force of cold air. I feel the hold on my arms slacken and a loud sob rises up from Peeta's throat. Johanna is in my face, holding my cheeks while they cart Willow away on a stretcher.

"Katniss?" Her voice sounds far away. "Katniss, she's fine, they shot her leg; she just fainted I promise." Peeta strangled voice gets softer behind me. I can focus.

"Who?"

"Who what?" Johanna looks at me questioningly.

"Who _shot _my daughter?" My teeth hurt from gritting them so hard against each other.

"No one saw the shooter," she says, "It wasn't my sniper that's positive but he's been taken in for questioning anyway." I give a long shuddering breath, my eyes fixed to the floor where I don't have to face anything but the truth. Willow is going to be okay. I turn to Peeta and relax my arms around him, holding his head to my chest, keeping his cries contained to my blouse instead of the echoic auditorium.

"We have to see her," I blurt out. Johanna just nods.

0o0

The rest of the night was a blur. We were driven off in an old Peacekeeper truck to the hospital, taken to the second floor where Willow was.

"They can't see her now," says a doctor with a bushy mustache. "She's having her leg casted."

"Ten minutes is all you get," snaps Johanna in a condescending tone. "Then we're barging in." The doctor nods weakly. I collapse into a chair, holding onto Oliver's small body close to my chest. I won't let anyone hurt another one of my children.

"They're investigating the shooting," says Johanna, glancing back from Peeta to me. Peeta just puts his head in his hands, his usually young and bright eyes tired and gray. I release one hand from Oliver to place on his back; soothingly rubbing it.

"She's awake," The doctor is back from the room. Peeta practically jumps from his seat, grasping my hand as we're lead into the white walled room. I prepare myself for the worst.

But instead there's my little Willow, her curled hair laid across her pillow elegantly, a white hospital blanket pulled up over her, only the tip of her cast sticking out the side. No blood, no wounds, just a small bruise on her cheek like she tripped at the playground. Then comes the emotional pain. She starts crying as soon as we come in, tears slipping down her pale cheeks like falling stones. Peeta runs to her side, holding her close while I squeeze one of her cold hands.

"W-what happened?" she asks. I cast a glance at the doctor.

"We hadn't told her yet," he explains, "Thought you may want to, Madame President." I bite my lip and look at Peeta. He gives a little shrug.

"You were shot," I say softly, "With a gun? You remember reading about those?" She looks horrified.

"Yes," she whispers, "I didn't like those."

"But you're okay," I say quickly, "They only hurt your leg and now you get to use those fun things to get around." I point a shaky finger to the crutches in the corner. I hear Johanna sniffle a little.

"Who had the gun Mummy?" There are her big eyes again, her small lips asking questions I can't answer.

"We don't know," says Peeta, speaking for me. I merely nod, squeezing her hand again and kissing her head. She's so innocent.

"I'm going to find out Willow," says Johanna, stepping forward. She looks at me. "I have to call Haymitch."

0o0

Willow gets to go home five days later but she'll have crutches and a wheelchair for the next few months. I insist we attach a few ramps around the house but Willow just giggles and says she'd rather use it as a slide. I don't understand how she can be okay with all of this but she's also only 6. I doubt she understands it completely. We install the ramps anyway and she uses them the best to her ability, having to be pushed up mostly since they're so steep.

A few days after she's released from the hospital, Johanna brings Haymitch (sober, thank god) up to our house and ushers him into the kitchen while Oliver and Willow are sleeping.

"They obviously just wanted to scare you," says Haymitch as the four of us gather around the kitchen counter. I can see his shaky eyes glancing around for a bit of alcohol.

"Look in the cabinet below you," I say with a sigh. He gives me a grateful smile and ducks down under the counter, resurfacing with a bottle of gin a second later. Peeta shakes his head in disgust. Johanna just snorts.

"Well they scared me," I say, picking the conversation back up. "Whoever this is, is being very subtle and that's worrying us. No one actually saw anything, and all I could see was her white dress…" I clench my teeth. "Nevermind." I take Peeta's hand, desperately trying to slow down my nerves.

"I suggest we start with the auditorium," says Johanna, "It's been investigated but that was only by officials, no one I actually trust that much. Maybe we can find something different." Just then Oliver starts to cry and I have to run off, leaving the three of them to set a date for the "investigation."

All I really know every day since the shooting is one thing.

Whoever did it will die and I or Peeta will be the ones to kill them.


	4. Chapter 4

"Shouldn't we call the city on red alert?" asks Peeta. We're getting ready for bed, staying on either sides of the room until we have to hold the nightmares back for each other.

"No," I say, "They're only targeting us and the extra guards and security around the house is enough."

"People might ask questions," he points out. I just shrug and climb into bed.

"We can distract them somehow," I say with a yawn. It doesn't take long for Peeta's arms to find me and for us to wrap up together, safe from the cold of the outdoors but not from the ice in our dreams.

0o0

I wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding a little too fast for normal. Peeta is fast asleep, his head lying on the side of his wet pillow. I can't believe I didn't hear him crying tonight. I try to fall back asleep but with no avail, leaving me hot and bothered. I think about turning down the heat but decide to take a walk instead. I pull on my socks and boots, throwing my heavy fur coat over my nightdress. Once Upon a December is playing in my mind, stuck there since Willow sang only a week ago.

I hurry down the staircase, my brown curls flying behind me and adding some sort of coolness to my neck. I push open the back door and I am met with icy cold like a slap in the face. It pushes past my coat and nightdress, chilling me to the bone and freezing my cheeks. It somehow all relaxes me.

I sink my knees into the snow and press my hands into ice, feeling the cold travel up my throat and making me cough- hard. Tears form in my eyes but I don't know why and then I'm sobbing. A deep, wrenching sob that hurts my lungs and my eyes, as I lean against the cold I can't control.

"Mummy?" Her voice reaches me slowly, and it takes me several seconds before I turn to face her pink-cheeked face. She's brought herself downstairs, sitting in her brown wheelchair. I can't say anything past my sniffling nose and cries, but I reach out my arms and pick her up, holding her freezing body against mine and kissing her soft head.

"Are you scared mummy?" she asks. I take a deep breath and considering lying, for her sake. But she deserves to know better. "Yes," I finally whisper. My throat sounds scratchy. "Yes I am scared."

0o0

The next morning Johanna visits early while the family is seated around the table. She comes with two guards and Haymitch, which I only guess means bad news.

"Be right back sweetie," I say to Willow, taking Peeta's hand and following him out into the living room. Johanna hands me a white envelope. I rip it open quickly as she says, "Those are mug shots of my sniper, and a few shots that a mother got of a random person in the shadows. They look about 5'5" don't you think?"

"I would say so," says Peeta. I bite my lip, trying to see if I know them but barely anything is recognizable. A slim shape all in black with the height of a young adult?

"It could be anyone," says Haymitch, like he's reading my mind.

"Well we can try and narrow it down," says Johanna, "But I have a class to teach and Haymitch has a beer to drink." Peeta shakes his head, looking a little lost. I guess it was a hard night for both of us.

"We'll visit there later," I say quietly, "Take a look around."

"I'll meet you there," says Haymitch, "Bring guns." His eyes travel to me. "Or a bow." I resist rolling my eyes and head back to the kitchen, where Oliver is trying to grab Willow's oatmeal.

"How dare he," I snarl to Peeta, taking the small plastic bowl of gruel and dragging it back to Willow. "He knows damn well I don't use a bow anymore, and why should I? It's not healthy."

"He's only trying to help," says Peeta, "He'll never admit it but he cares for us a lot."

"Suggesting I take a weapon that gives me panic attacks is not caring," I snap. I pick up Oliver from his bouncer and give him his bottle. "Can you wheel Willow upstairs so she can get dressed?"

"That's okay mummy," she says, "I can do it myself." She rolls out of the room and down the hall, barely making a sound without the usual footfall.

"He really does care," says Peeta, rubbing my back softly. "Just promise you'll be nice to him until we figure out who hurt Willow?"

"Okay, okay," I grumble, "Have a good day." I kiss his cheek and he's out the door all too quickly, leaving me with one ill daughter and a suddenly crying baby.

0o0

A/N

Sorry for the short chapter, I will write more later! Something big coming up :) Please excuse any spelling errors, my spellcheck isn't working and sadly I rely on it more than I would like to.


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